


euneirophrenia

by mewantcandy



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sickfic, Somewhat Unreliable Narrator, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewantcandy/pseuds/mewantcandy
Summary: euneirophrenia (n);the peace of mind that comes from having pleasant dreams.
Relationships: Ikaruga Madoka & Ikaruga Misumi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	euneirophrenia

**Author's Note:**

> so i... may or may not have had ikaruga siblings on the brain. sorry not sorry.

He supposed that he should consider himself lucky. He had been blessed with talent, after all, which was something that his family had often praised him for. Anything he wanted would be procured for him, not that he often wanted for anything at all.

Still, at this moment, Ikaruga Madoka did not feel lucky.

On the contrary, he felt like a wet rag, wadded up and tossed to the side. He felt like the personification of death itself, cold and unfeeling, burdened with the heavy weight of a multitude of souls on his back. He felt as though nothing in the world mattered, because it was fragile and transient, and it would shatter the moment any sort of pressure was applied on it.

Or perhaps that was the fever talking.

It was probably the fever, Madoka thought faintly to himself, but he was a writer through and through, and the strings of words forming in his head only accelerated with the heat of his body rising, like the growth of some sort of bacteria, reproducing exponentially as the heat rose.

His throat felt dry, like the Gobi Desert. Or, no, maybe the Sahara Desert. Something cool was on his forehead. Something to dispel the fever, probably, like a damp towel, or one of those cool, sticky patches that Madoka never bothered to learn the name of. There was a blanket sloppily tucking him into bed, and it made him feel stifled in heat.

Madoka managed a steady exhale before shifting his weight to his elbows and carefully pushing himself up to a sitting position. The cool object on his forehead fell to his lap, and he could feel the cold seeping in through the blanket that had bunched up by his hips. So it was a towel, he thought to himself, another string of words within multi-layered lines of code. Or, no. That wasn't quite right. The theme didn't match up. He'd think of another, better metaphor later.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He inhaled slowly, then opened his eyes once more when the world beneath him steadied, and he didn't feel like he was about to topple over.

The room was dark, and completely silent. There was no one else in the room with him. Certainly not his father, because he was often busy with work. Father was a writer, like Madoka's grandfather before him, and he spent his time holed up in his office

Madoka's eyes flickered over to the other end of the room to--

A desk, pushed up against the wall. Madoka's writing desk, where he finished his school work and, more notably, wrote up stories. He'd been told that he took after his grandfather in that regard, a writer through and through. Old notebooks were neatly placed onto the shelves, and if you flipped through them, you'd see pages upon pages of handwritten stories and fantastical plots.

That desk had been moved into this room just a year or two ago, around when Madoka started writing and writing. And before that, a bed had laid in that corner. A bed, similar to his own, with the midnight blue bedsheets covered in yellow triangles. Someone slept on that bed, once, had kept Madoka company through the nights.

Not anymore, though. Misumi had moved out to a different room in their home, but Madoka couldn't quite recall why. Father told him to, maybe. Their parents had never been too fond of Misumi, he thought. It left the room too big and too empty for one person. At once, Madoka felt cold, a shiver passing through his body.

Madoka frowned, reaching down to tug his blanket around his shoulders like a cape. It warmed him, somewhat, but not enough. Not nearly enough to stave off the cold that was now seeping into his bones, into the core of his very being.

Perhaps now would be a good time to bring out the death metaphors.

Yes, Madoka thought, shifting his body and letting his legs dangle over the edge of his bed. He felt like Thanatos, alone in the frosty mist as he went to collect the souls of the dead. Or, no, that wasn't right. Souls were warm and vibrant, and he felt anything but.

The soles of his feet touched the floor, and he recoiled at the coldness of it. He paused for a second, then slowly placed his feet back on the floor, pushing himself up off the bed. He managed small steps forward, slow and unsteady as he made his way.

Maybe comparing himself to the first person who'd ever died was a better metaphor, he thought. One who had left the world of warmth behind and was foraging into a path yet unknown. A dangerous, cold path that had yet to be explored, and Madoka never considered himself to be a particularly courageous person.

He found himself standing in front of the stairs leading up to the attic. He wasn't sure why he was here, or when he had gotten here. He supposed his feet brought him here of his own accord. That sounded poetic, if a bit overdone. He tucked the thought into the back of his mind, gripped onto the banister, and took slow steps up the stairs.

What was up here in the attic, again? Nothing useful. He knew that, at least. Whatever was up here didn't really matter and wasn't really needed, but regardless of what was needed, Madoka figured that it was something he wanted.

It wasn't like he often wanted anything, so this insistent feeling bubbling up in his stomach had to mean something, right?

One step at a time, he made his way up the stairs. More words swam around his thoughts, though most of them were incoherent. He tucked the most outstanding phrases into the back of his mind for safekeeping, but the rest jumbled together into some kind of alphabet soup that was more alphabet than soup.

Ah, maybe he should have paid more attention to what was going on in front of him. His eyes misted over as a sudden bout of dizziness hit him, and his foot caught on the top step of the staircase. He was sent sprawling onto the landing, and a pained groan scratched its way out of his throat.

His vision went completely dark for a second, two seconds, but before any panic could set into his heart, it started clearing up. Everything was blurry, and his heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. The floor was cold.

Ah, right. The cold. He had been trying to escape the cold, and that was why he was here, on the landing of the stairs leading to the attic.

He blinked slowly, moving his arms underneath him so he could push himself up. There was nothing there. It wasn't cold anymore, but Madoka wasn't sure when it had stopped being cold.

"... ka? Are... helloooo?"

Madoka could barely hear the sound of something bright over his own heartbeat. He shifted his weight, and noted hazily that he was no longer on the cold, hard ground, and was instead enveloped in warmth.

"... ka? Madoka?"

"Mn...?"

Madoka managed a half-hearted mumble when he heard his name, letting his eyes slip shut. He turned, bringing himself closer to the warmth. Something pressed lightly against his forehead, and he scrunched his face up.

The light pressure disappeared, and Madoka allowed himself to relax. The warmth was moving, he thought, but he was moving along with it, so that was fine.

A soft melody drifted over his head. Madoka faintly wondered if he was going insane. The usual jumble of words in his head was gone, replaced by a faint hum, a song he was sure he'd heard somewhere before.

He sighed softly and let himself drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> soooo... yeah! thanks for reading. if you liked it, leave a comment, and find me on twitter! link in my profile.


End file.
